They Believed in Me First: Sister Maribeth, Sister Catherina, & the Spark That Lit My Path

"Everyone you meet becomes a part of you."

I recently encountered this wisdom in my sister Mary Doak's book, "DIVINE HARMONY: LIVING COMMUNITY WITH GOD AND OTHERS" (2017). As a teacher, I believe in its truth. Many of my former students likely remember me, fondly or otherwise, just as I recall nearly all of my teachers. But it's truly remarkable when a teacher, coach, or mentor inspires you or transforms your life. If you are lucky, you may have had a teacher who inspired you to improve yourself or, perhaps, to discover your destiny.

I had two remarkable teachers who inspired me as a boy, especially with their love of history: my third-grade teacher Sister Maribeth Takes (1927-2020) and my seventh grade history and social studies teacher Sister Catherina Walsh (1930-2021). 

My third grade teacher, Sister Maribeth Takes (1927-2020). Although she was a bit younger when she taught me, this is pretty much how I remember her.

In the fall of 1977, I met my third-grade teacher, Sister Maribeth, at Jordan Catholic School in Rock Island, Illinois. Like all dedicated elementary school teachers, she taught us English, reading, science, math, art, and history, with breaks only for music and physical education. Since it was a Catholic school she taught us religion as well. Although I don't recall our first meeting, I remember her as a tall, thin woman with dark hair and a warm smile. I also remember her as very energetic and a fast walker.

Jordan Catholic School today. It looks very similar to how it did in 1977-78 when Sister Maribeth was my third grade teacher.

I have often wondered what Sister Maribeth thought of me at age eight. I was certainly, at best, a “diamond in the rough.” In fact, I was a rough and tumble boy, above average in height and weight, with a bit of a hygiene issue. I did not like to take baths. There was nothing in the dress code about "bathing" or "using soap regularly." It seemed to me I could wear as many layers of dirt, sweat, grime, and filth as I wanted. I remember at least a couple of times classmates told me I smelled bad. I didn’t care. Looking back, I am sure that Sister Maribeth noticed this, but she never said a word. If she had, it would have likely crushed me. I could dismiss the criticism of other students, but if a well-liked teacher said something? I am not sure I could have handled that. (For part of the year I remember my desk was along the windows, right next to the teacher's desk. Poor Sister Maribeth.)

The only time I remember Sister Maribeth correcting me was when I wore my new Cincinnati Bengals shirt to school. (I followed the Bengals for a few years after I learned Kenny Anderson played at Rock Island’s Augustana College and my Cincinnati-based Uncle Jack and his family were big fans.) Sister Maribeth said: “Owen, you should not be wearing that shirt. It doesn’t have a collar. It is against the dress code.” I think I just shook my head in agreement. I might have said “Okay,” or “I know.” I just had to wear it at least once! I did not wear it again.

Pictured above: The author's 3rd grade school picture from the fall of 1977. Disco, polyester shirts, and long hair were "in." The photo at right is Christmas 1977. The author is wearing his new Cincinnati Bengals shirt, brother Dan, brother John, and Grandmother Minnie Doak are also pictured.

In early spring of 1978, Sister Maribeth inspired me with an art project. She provided materials to create Easter decorations, and I made a standing Easter Bunny. It turned out quite well. Although art wasn't my strength, Sister Maribeth praised my creation as one of the best and displayed it on the top of her locker for weeks. I was thrilled.

This is exactly how I remember the cover of my favorite book as a child.

But an even greater day took place later that spring. Sister Maribeth asked us to grab our carpet squares for story time. The book she chose would change my life forever: FREDERICK DOUGLASS FIGHTS FOR FREEDOM (1968) by Margaret Davidson. I think she introduced the book by asking us if we knew what slavery was, and what we would have done if we were slaves. Some of us probably said “run away” or “fight back.” Then she began reading. She read about young Frederick (Bailey) Douglass learning the alphabet from his master's wife. When he learned about the lessons the master angrily put an end to them to avoid legal trouble. It was against the law to teach a slave to read and write. Then Frederick tricked a white boy in the neighborhood into writing the alphabet on a wooden fence so he could study the letters. Young Frederick then grabbed all discarded newspapers he could find to study and analyze. In this manner, he taught himself how to read. I was astonished. I still am.

But his education made him a terrible slave. He learned about freedom and yearned for it.

As a teen, Frederick fought back against his abusive master and got the best of him. I remember feeling happy that he beat up his cruel master but also scared for him as he decided he had to run away. What really stuck with me was his arrival in a northern city (New York?) and he saw a black man he recognized named Jake. As Sister Maribeth read, she became animated, almost as if she was Frederick Douglass himself calling out for Jake: “Jake! Jake! It’s me, Frederick!” But Jake was not happy. He scolded Frederick for loudly calling out his name as there were many slave catchers all across the North, especially in northern cities. 

I think Sister Maribeth read several more pages, but we didn’t finish the book that day. It was time for physical education. As we ran out to the playground, I remember turning to my friend saying: “Wasn’t that a great story? What did you think of it?” 

“What? Who cares? It's time to play kickball!” 

I ordered the book when Sister Maribeth distributed the Scholastic Books magazine. My mother usually let me order a few books each year, and I read this one many times. It became my favorite, sparked my love for history and reading, and fostered a nascent empathy for those who were mistreated due to race. I also first learned about Dr. King from Sister Maribeth in that spring of 1978. 

I am sure the day Sister Maribeth read FREDERICK DOUGLASS was an ordinary day for her. But I could tell she was excited about the story. Her passion and enthusiasm were contagious. And almost fifty years later, Frederick Douglass remains one of my great historical heroes. And, on my better days as a teacher, I try to channel the passion and enthusiasm Sister Maribeth had on that ordinary day in the spring of 1978. 

Jordan Catholic School Wrestling Team, 1978-79: The author is in the front row in the center, having competed as a 4th grader in the 85-pound weight class, with a record of 10-9 against mostly 7th graders. Brother John Doak is positioned in the second row, first on the left. He wrestled in the state championship, finishing 2nd in state that year!

I met Sister Catherina in August of 1981 during orientation. She noticed my T-shirt from an Aledo wrestling tournament from earlier that year and remarked, “So, are you going to be a great wrestler here at Jordan?” I had already been on the team for three years, but I just smiled and replied, “I hope so.” As we left Sister Catherina's classroom I blurted out to my mom, "She noticed my shirt!"

Jordan Junior High from 1974-1983, formerly St. Joseph's High School. Sister Catherina's room was on the third floor on the right side nearest the church. Sadly, the school was torn down after I graduated in 1983, the church was demolished in 2007.

Sister Catherina inspired me throughout the entire year with her engaging storytelling and calm delivery. Her instruction was simple yet effective, providing us with weekly reading/lecture outlines to fill in key terms. Tests closely mirrored these guides. She encouraged questions and occasionally digressed to discuss her beloved Cubs, current events, or her own views on historical figures. During the Civil War unit, she explained how she respected General Robert E. Lee as a gentleman despite not agreeing with his cause. I silently disagreed. Even as a 12-year-old I was not a fan of Robert E. Lee or the Confederacy.

Sister Catherina in a photo from her retirement years. She looked exactly like this in 1981 except that her hair was light brown with gray highlights.

Sister Catherina’s class was the first in eight years of formal education where I truly excelled. I was already pretty good at football, wrestling, and playing the baritone, and now I excelled academically (at least in history class.) I rarely missed points on her tests and felt bad for classmates with papers full of red marks. For me, listening to Sister Catherina was easy, which made succeeding in her class straightforward.

I never had the chance to thank Sister Maribeth before her death in 2020. But I did thank Sister Catherina about ten years ago after mass at Sacred Heart Church in Rock Island. I remember my gratitude seemed to make her uncomfortable; perhaps her discomfort was due to her humility. However, she was still gracious and kind. Both Sister Maribeth and Sister Catherina had a profound impact on me, and I am forever grateful for their example, their teaching, and their passion for history.

It is true to say the Sister Maribeth and Sister Catherina believed in me first. They believed in me as a boy and as a student. In fact, they believed in me before I believed in myself. Thank you Sisters.

Below are two decorations that appear in my high school classroom where I am starting my 32nd year teaching history and civics: a finger puppet of Frederick Douglass and a framed picture of Frederick Douglass.

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Owen C. Doak

August 23rd, 2025